


Romantic Places in Midorijima

by truejaku (hereonourstreet)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Anniversary, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereonourstreet/pseuds/truejaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noiz wants to take Mizuki on the most incredible date he's ever been on for their two-year anniversary, especially since the first one passed them by. Extravagant Noiz and flustered Mizuki (sort of), LOTS OF FLUFF! A commission for my dearest friend <a href="http://www.iamalsohere.tumblr.com">Corn</a>, who is always always always there for me, thank you so much for this commission!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romantic Places in Midorijima

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



            It never occurred to you that you might, one day, be in a situation in which you’d have to commemorate something in your life. The idea of anything beside your – or Emmerich’s – birthday occurring at the same time every year was foreign to you, and you certainly never thought that you’d have to remember a specific date.

            But now, every June eighteenth is your anniversary. With your boyfriend.

            _‘Boyfriend’_ is another term you never thought you’d use. Not with any severity or weight at least – honestly, you never thought you’d last long enough to get into any serious kind of relationship. Not to imply you’d ever considered anything like _suicide_ before, simply that you always assumed you’d die somewhat young from some tragic accident as a result of your recklessness and who would really care?

            That was the first thing that you noticed had changed when you started dating Mizuki. You stopped being reckless. You started to consider your surroundings more and take better care of yourself. At first, you thought a relationship was about taking care of someone else, but it quickly dawned on you that if something ever happened to _you_ , you couldn’t be with Mizuki anymore. And Mizuki would have to deal with another loss and you couldn’t stand the idea of doing that to him. You’d never want him to have a breakdown because of _you_.

            So you’ve started being more careful. You’ve stopped picking fights and you’ve learned how to use rubbing alcohol on cuts. You’ve started actually putting the cushion part of the bandage over the wound instead of simply slapping it on so the adhesive sticks to the scar and pulls it off when you rip it away. You’ve started letting Mizuki look you over every night to make sure you haven’t sustained any injuries you can’t feel and even though nine times out of ten it does end in sex, you never feel objectified when he inspects your naked body that closely.

            Being someone’s boyfriend for two years – or somewhere around there – has changed you. You never saw that coming. Of course, you’d seen things on TV and in movies about friends falling apart when one enters a relationship, but you never really had a lot of friends to fall away from in the first place. In fact, since meeting Mizuki, you’ve actually _gained_ friends. You’d seen people get mad at their friends for changing after dating a person, but you never knew that you could change for the better. And yet, you have. That took you off guard, but you’ve never been happier. Technically, you’ve never really been _happy_. You’re happy now.

            You missed your one-year anniversary because at first, your relationship was a mess.

            You didn’t decide you were dating until fourteen months after you started dating. Mizuki had always liked to take things slow, and though it was brutal torture for you then, you’re grateful now. It was June eighteenth, two years ago, that Mizuki first called you his boyfriend on accident. Koujaku had wanted him to come out to a bar with him, but he told Koujaku that he’d prefer to just sit at home and watch movies with his boyfriend. Koujaku frowned. Mizuki blushed. You smirked and threw your arm around him, but after you’d gone home that night, he’d messaged you to apologize if he’d made things awkward. You asked if that meant you weren’t his boyfriend and he said he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t for another fourteen months that he finally admitted you were in a relationship, that you had been for a long time, ever since the day he’d called you his boyfriend, and that was the day you insisted be your anniversary. He’d nodded, then kissed you deeply, with both his hands cupping your face. 

            However, though you’ve defined yourselves as boyfriends, you’ve never exactly said you’re monogamous. You both still joke about fucking other people, but only together. It’s never been a real conversation – if that would ever happen – but it’s never really been an issue, either. You haven’t fucked anyone else in years, and neither has he. Maybe you’re not exactly exclusive. Maybe if the opportunity presented itself, you’d love to watch Mizuki sucking someone else’s dick, but you’d never want him to do anything without you and you’ve never felt the desire to do anything without him. Maybe that’s not how couples are supposed to be, but you like it. Anything or anyone new that you decide to do, you want to do with Mizuki. You want to know that you’re going home with your boyfriend at the end of the day. It’s unconventional, but it’s _you_.

            You have to remind yourself that it’s _“us”_ now, not just “ _you.”_ It’s unconventional, but it’s _us_. It’s a bit frightening, but you love it at the same time. You’re not only _Noiz_ anymore. Now you’re part of something bigger, and that something has an aesthetic and dynamic all its own. You exist individually, of course, but now there’s not just _“Noiz”_ and _“Mizuki”_ but also “ _Noiz_ and _Mizuki”_ and you finally see how much you have always wanted that. You want to be a part of something else, and what’s better is that being a part of something with Mizuki has made you prouder of being just _Noiz,_ too. Noiz is a hard-working coder who loves pizza, rabbits, and his boyfriend. Noiz is quiet but passionate. Noiz is clever. Noiz is hilarious. Noiz makes people laugh. Noiz makes people smile. Noiz makes _Mizuki_ smile. Mizuki helped you be that. You were always that, and you always will be that, but Mizuki helped you find it.

            That’s why you wanted to find the perfect date. The date that really exemplified _“us.”_ The date that defined your relationship. You wanted to take Mizuki on the best date he’d ever been on for your two-year anniversary. You wanted it to be big and lavish and over-the-top. You called Emmerich and he suggested a carriage ride or an expensive restaurant and you quickly realized that “lavish” wasn’t exactly something to be found in Midorijima. The closest you could get was the now-public part of Platinum Jail, so you called the most expensive restaurant immediately and made a reservation. But then you were at a loss.

            When you first told Mizuki that you wanted to do something special for your anniversary, he smirked and leaned into you, told you in a throaty whisper that he’d find the biggest vibrator he could and you couldn’t help but smile back at first. But then you held two fingers up to his lips and told him you were serious and you’d made a reservation in Platinum Jail. He pulled back and frowned and told you there wasn’t really any such thing as a romantic date in Midorijima and Platinum Jail was still just a scam to divide the classes. You asked if you should cancel and he asked if you would care. You said no at first, but then you admitted that you wanted to do all the clichés. You wanted to take him out and buy him dinner. You wanted to pick him up and hand him flowers and open the car door for him. You wanted to shower him in gifts – he interrupted you to remind you in annoyance that you already did that anyway – and you wanted to tell him all night how much he meant to you. He studied you for a couple seconds and then rolled his eyes. He agreed to the date – to whatever you wanted – but if you were able to find a single romantic place in Midorijima, he said he’d be shocked. You asked if that was a challenge and he said no, a challenge would be to see if you could make him come without ever touching his dick and the rest of the night lives infamously.

            You got a little nervous that you promised Mizuki a mind-blowing date and wouldn’t be able to deliver, so you asked someone from Ruff Rabbit – a younger man, even younger than you by a year or two, named Hideo – if they’d be willing to do you a favor. It still shocks you when people are more than happy to oblige your requests without expecting anything in return and you still feel a little uncomfortable about it. You had to nervously wring your hands a few times as you told him he was the only one who could help because he was the only one with a license, but didn’t seem put out in the least. You told him you’d be back on June seventeenth with the keys to a rental car and a fairly lengthy list of places he’d need to drive to. He nodded with a small smile before he went back to his laptop screen. It was that easy. You never knew it could be that easy before.

            You made a lot of plans, but the hardest part was convincing Mizuki that he had to dress up for the restaurant. You bought him a tie and a vest but he nixed the latter immediately. You thought he might, but you were still disappointed – Mizuki’s shoulders in a vest would be breathtaking. Then you realized it was probably for the best, because you really didn’t want to get kicked out of Platinum Jail for fucking your boyfriend in the bathroom. He finally agreed to a button up with some nice slacks. You made a mental note to bring a jacket for him, just in case.

            It was stressful enough to plan this whole date that you never considered just how emotional it all is for you until just now, as you’re standing on his doorstep. You practically live together, but you still have your own place and you switch off – sometimes you stay at his place for weeks and sometimes he stays at yours. Rarely do you sleep alone, but it does happen occasionally, and you stayed home last night so that you could pick him up tonight. Like a real date.

            You’re nervous. You never thought you’d be nervous. You’ve let Mizuki come on your face before. You’ve come on _his_ face before. But you’re nervous now, standing outside his place, a bouquet of roses in your hand. It seems silly now, to get him flowers. And you _feel_ silly, in your pressed suit and nice shoes. You never minded the high-class stuff, but you suddenly realize this is not Mizuki. This is not “ _us_.” You close your eyes slowly and take a deep breath. You almost throw the flowers down and go back to Hideo and make him take you home, but then you realize you’re being ridiculous and hit the doorbell quickly, before you can change your mind.

            You’ve never done this before. You’ve never stood on a doorstep and watched the boy you love open his door slowly, eventually revealing himself in his dark red button up and slate gray slacks – you knew he had relented to dress up, but you didn’t realize he had such a good fashion sense. He even has a skinny gray tie on and he seems so relaxed and natural but you can’t fucking breathe. You know you’re standing there like a moron so you pull the flowers up suddenly and thrust them into his hands. He laughs lightly and takes them.

            “You got me flowers?”

            You shrug because you’re still completely speechless. It’s no secret that Mizuki likes the color red, but the crimson flushes against his dark skin and he looks like a fucking model. Everything about him seems so flawlessly put together but he looks so comfortable, as if he simply threw it all on a few minutes prior. Maybe it’s just because you’ve never seen him in clothes like this, but you don’t think he’s ever looked this gorgeous. You’re not even looking at the body of the boy you want to fuck. You’re looking at the body of the boy you are so in love with that you can still feel like this when you see him, even two years later. He looks beautiful and that’s quite honestly all there is to it.

            You hold out your arm for him to take. He rolls his eyes and steps out, closes the door, and loops his arm through yours.

            “I wasn’t expecting a suit,” he mumbles and that’s when you think you take your first breath since he opened the door.

            “Do I look stupid?”

            “No!” he shouts, putting a hand on your chest and curling into you. He hugs you as he says, “I’ve just never seen you dressed like this. It’s weird.”

            “Is it?”

            “Not – in a bad way,” he says, leaning down to kiss you quickly. “You look amazing.”

            “ _You_ look amazing,” your mouth says on its own and he tilts his head to the side with a smile as you close your eyes in embarrassment. You turn him around and take him to the car – the very expensive rental car – the _most_ expensive car the rental place had. The most expensive, sleek, black car that rental place had and Mizuki gasps. Something about his surprise finally puts you at ease.

            “Where’d you get this?”

            “My ass,” you tell him as you let him go and open the car door. It’s not a limo, but there is a divider between the backseat and the driver, so you can sit in his lap and make out with him all you want on the way to the restaurant. You usher him inside the car and he shakes his head in disbelief as he climbs in.

            “Your ass is a magical place,” he sighs.

            “For a lot of reasons,” you smirk as you follow him in.

            “Wait, who’s driving?” he asks as you sit beside him in the spacious interior. There are two sets of seats facing each other, enough for four, and you immediately swivel your hips to him and plant your hands on either side of his. You lean in close and smile quietly.

            “Hideo,” you say flippantly as you press your lips to his and kiss him firmly, taking his bottom lip between yours and sucking on it gently.

            “Wh – who?” he asks suddenly. You pull off and look him in the eyes.

            “Ruff Rabbit.”

            “Oh. You – oh,” is all he manages before you kiss him again, more fervently this time. The car starts to move and you hear the divider slide up as you lean Mizuki down against the seat and climb on top of him, your lips on his the entire time. Hideo knew this was going to happen.

            It does happen quicker than you mean for it to though. You just couldn’t stop yourself after he opened the door in that shirt. He looks so good and you won’t be able to make it through an entire dinner if you don’t get to touch him just a little bit beforehand. You straddle his waist and arch your ass into the air as your back flattens and you hold him around the back of his shoulders to make out with him. His hands are cupping your ass as best they can through your slacks and although you can’t feel that all too well, you do love all the little sounds he makes. Small, appreciative sighs every time you rut your ass backwards into his hands and long, slow moans when you move down to lick a stripe from the base of his neck to the bottom of his ear. You match them with your own surprised groans when he bites your neck harshly, pulling the collar of your shirt away to get to the skin underneath your suit. He has to bite hard enough for you feel it, but doesn’t want to leave any marks before you show up to a fancy restaurant, you assume. You sit up and take your jacket off and start to unbutton your Oxford when he stops you.

            “Hey, let’s not – let’s not go too far right here,” he says. “I kind – I kind of wanted to do this – the clichéd way.”

            “The clichéd way?” you ask. You did too. You wanted all the clichés too, but you don’t know what he means.

            “I thought maybe… instead of… fucking in the car or in the restaurant bathroom, maybe we could wait and do something… actually romantic at home,” he says. He meets your eyes and doesn’t look embarrassed, but he does seem genuine and maybe a little tired, as if admitting that took a lot out of him. You start to re-button your shirt when he says, “Honestly, I’m kind of – nervous.”

            “Nervous?” you ask. “About – fucking? Or – ”

            “No, dumbass,” he rolls his eyes. Staring down at him when he looks this sarcastic and dominant is turning you on, so you finally get off him and finish buttoning your shirt back up. You situate yourself next to him again as he continues, “About the restaurant.”

            “You’re nervous about the restaurant?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Why?”

            He sort of juts his head out at you and widens his eyes. Then he points to his neck – still marred in black ink from covering up the Morphine tattoo – and to the teardrop on his face. He cocks his head to the side and throws his hand up in exasperation.

            “Platinum Jail may be open to the public now but it still – it’s still fancier than I’ll ever be. Even if it had never existed, I’d still just be… low-class gutter trash.”

            You wince immediately. He’s said this sort of thing before and you’ve always hated it because you don’t know exactly where you stand. You know your family is upper class back in Germany, and Emmerich hooked you up with a job through his branch of the company. And you never rejected the bank account your parents let you keep using, even if it was to keep you away from them. You don’t know if you’re part of the class that Mizuki hates – or if he actually _hates_ any class – but all of that is secondary to the fact that he would call himself trash. You put your hand on top of his and frown.

            “You’re not,” you say finally. It’s not much, but it’s genuine, and he can tell. The corners of his lips tug up into a smile. “It’s going to be fine. I know what I’m doing, at least. Just let me lead. _I’m_ supposed to be taking _you_ out, anyway.”

            “It’s just – it’s still Platinum Jail. I was born on this island. I watched everything happen. You weren’t here for that. Platinum Jail means something different to me.”

            You nod. He’s right. You want to kiss him, but you don’t want him to think you aren’t listening, so you squeeze his hand instead.

            “If you hate it, we’ll leave,” you shrug. “Just say the word and we’re gone.”

            He smiles wider and looks at the floor before he leans over and rests his head against your shoulder.

            “This is already way too fancy,” he mutters a few minutes later and you laugh through your nose. You keep lacing your fingers in and out of his.

            “I still have metal all over my face,” you shrug. “It’s probably not as fancy as you think.”

            He tilts his head to the side and nods in acknowledgement. Then he takes a deep breath.

            “Well, Platinum Jail doesn’t count as Midorijima, by the way.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “This doesn’t count as the romantic part,” he says. “I said I bet you couldn’t something romantic in _Midorijima_. Platinum Jail is not Midorijima.”

            You smirk to yourself and recall Hideo’s face as he looked at the list of destinations you needed him to drive to throughout the night. It was more impressed than concerned, and he said it was doable.

            “Don’t worry,” you tell Mizuki. “There’s more than just dinner.”

            “There is?”

            “Yeah,” you nod. “And what do I get if I win?”

            “If you win what?”

            “If I find a romantic place in Midorijima,” you say. “You said you bet I couldn’t find one. If I do, what do I win?”

            “You love this kind of shit way too much,” he mumbles, pulling away from you and crossing his legs and his arms. You laugh.

            “So it’s not a real bet?”

            “If you find a romantic place in Midorijima then you win a kiss,” he says. “From me.”

            “I’ve never wanted anything more,” you tell him as you lean into him again and you end up making out the entire rest of the drive (sitting up this time, as when you tried to push him down he braced himself and shook his head, telling you if you wanted to kiss some more that you had to do it sitting up so that it didn’t go too far – you whined but acquiesced).

            When the car stops moving and you hear Hideo’s door slam you pull away and stare your boyfriend in the eyes. You take the few seconds of solitude to say it:

            “Hey,” you whisper. He raises his eyebrows and you tell him, “I love you.”

            “I love you, too,” he replies, giving you one last, quick kiss before Hideo opens the door for you. You get out first and then reach back in for him. He takes your hand and allows you to help him but he rolls his eyes as he does so.

            Platinum Jail is a lot messier than you would have expected, really. Most of it is still under maintenance and a lot of the plans for it are still up in the air. It’s going to take a long time to get in into any sort of working shape, and the parts that are open sort of exist in an in-between state that make them seem almost other-worldly: they’re extravagant enough that you would be impressed by anyone who enters and exits, but they’re also wedged between the main island and busy construction sites, full of makeshift sidewalks and roads.

            “See?” you mutter to Mizuki as you walk up to the hostess table and nudge him in the side. “It’s really nice inside but outside – this place is not _that_ great again yet.”

            “I guess,” he shrugs and he doesn’t say another word until you’re both sitting at your booth, tucked away in a corner of a room next to a fire and a large wall that divides you from other patrons. It’s fairly empty to begin with and most of the tables and booths are extremely private. You would be more satisfied with that if Mizuki wasn’t constantly fingering his neck and cheek and you definitely regret picking Platinum Jail. You really just wanted the cliché fancy anniversary meal, that’s all you wanted. And you know the customs of an upper-scale restaurant, but Mizuki obviously feels out of place. You reach across the table and touch the hand that isn’t nervously scratching at his neck.

            “Hey,” you say quietly. “It’s okay.”

            “I know,” he says coolly, and really does sound calm. Maybe he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

            “Stop touching your tattoos.”

            “Oh,” he says. You were right. It was subconscious. You sigh and pick up the wine list.

            “Let’s get wasted.”

            “An excellent idea,” Mizuki smiles and you nod. You go over the list and try to find the most expensive one. You don’t even care if it’s their best, you just want to buy Mizuki the entire world tonight and you get so engrossed in it that you don’t realize the waiter is there until Mizuki kicks you under the table.

            You order the second most expensive wine – a red one that you think Mizuki will like best – and Mizuki raises an eyebrow when the waiter comes back and has you swirl it in your glass. Emmerich taught you exactly how to do this when you went to see him last year, but you’re actually a bit nervous doing it yourself for the first time. You sip it and honestly can’t tell whether it’s good or bad, so you nod and the waiter pours you both a glass. He tells you he’ll give you some more time, and when he leaves, Mizuki is staring at you.

            “What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. Did you do it wrong? How would he know?

            “What the hell was that?”

            “Wine – tasting. Or whatever,” you say. “I don’t know. Don’t make fun of me.”

            “I’m not,” Mizuki says, his eyes wide. “I’m sort of turned on. I didn’t know you knew anything about wine.”

            “I’ll pay him extra to leave us alone for twenty minutes if you want me to blow you under the table right now,” you offer and Mizuki shakes his head before he takes a sip of the wine.

            “It’s disgusting,” he says and you laugh.

            “Yeah,” you nod as you take another sip. “Wine sucks.”

            Mizuki orders a duck dish and you get the chicken and it’s hardly been fifteen minutes since you got the wine and it’s already half gone – mostly by Mizuki’s hand. He’s always been known to drink a lot more than you, and it’s rarely been a problem, but you wonder if he’s _too_ nervous. You’re still on your first glass when he pours his third and you don’t realize you’re frowning until he lifts the glass to his lips but pulls it away before he takes a sip.

            “What’s wrong?” he asks, putting it back on the table. You shake your head.

            “What? Nothing.”

            “Why are you frowning?”

            You twist your lips into a sad smile and think about your words carefully. This night isn’t really going as you had planned, and you don’t know whose fault it is. It’s certainly not Mizuki’s, so it must be yours. You should have known better than to try to force something like this on him. He doesn’t want to be here and he tried to tell you that before. You wouldn’t listen. You wouldn’t listen because you wanted to do something for yourself. That was the exact opposite of what you meant to do.

            “This isn’t really – _us_ , is it?” you say finally. He knits his brows together and tilts his head.

            “What do you mean?”

            “This place. A fancy restaurant. I shouldn’t have made you come to Platinum Jail.”

            “What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice deep and serious. He reaches over and grabs your hand and holds it in his. “It’s great.”

            “Why are you so nervous, then?”

            His face softens as he smiles and studies you for a few seconds. You’re kind of upset. You don’t know how good the rest of the night will be if he doesn’t even like this stupid, fancy restaurant.

            “I’m not nervous,” he says. “I’m impressed. I’m just also not used to it. It’s not like you really are, either, though. You don’t go to fancy places like this all the time. You sit in my lap at home and slurp noodles straight out of my hand and watch bad movies with me. That’s why I wanted to do what you wanted to do for our anniversary. Because you always do what I want to do.”

            “I just want to be with you,” you say. “I would have done anything. This all seems so stupid now.”

            “It’s not,” Mizuki shakes his head. “It’s perfect.”

            “It’s _not_ ,” you insist. “It’s not _us_.”

            “What does that even mean? Why do you keep saying that?” he asks, a little irritated now. Now you’re even more upset.

            “I just wanted to do something that was _us_ ,” you say. “Something that represented _us_ as a couple. I couldn’t have gotten this more wrong.”

            He squeezes your hand suddenly, his nails digging into your skin hard enough that you can feel it. He tugs a piercing and you look down at your hands for a moment and then back up at him.

            “This is perfectly us, Noiz,” he says. “Rocky at the beginning, but now we talked about it and I understand you. And now it’s only going to get better.”

            It takes you a few seconds to really consider his words and then you can’t help but smile and look away. You’re still not totally convinced that he’s having a great time, but that was exactly what you needed to hear. You wonder if you’re blushing because you certainly feel embarrassed enough. You get embarrassed any time Mizuki says something that genuine that easily. It’s never been hard for him to tell you how he feels. You’ve always needed that.

            “You mean now is when I should blow you under the table?”

            “You need to stop bringing that up,” he says with a smile. “Stop making me think about it. I want to at least eat dinner before we get kicked out.”

            You don’t get kicked out; you make it through dinner and dessert and the bill without touching each other _too_ much – he does reach under the table and squeeze your knee. You smile even though you can’t feel it really but he’s fairly tipsy and probably doesn’t think about it. By the time you get back to the car with Hideo, he’s got a blush at the top of his cheeks from the wine but he’s not drunk. He’s happy and smiling and curling into you and you really feel like you’re his boyfriend, like you’re protecting him and romancing him and you help him into the car before checking in with Hideo that he knows where he’s going. He gives you a thumbs-up and you head back to Mizuki, who has his tie off and his top buttons unbuttoned when you get into the car.

            “We don’t have time for that,” you say as you take your seat next to him and Hideo takes off. Mizuki shakes his head.

            “I’m hot,” he says, putting his hand in yours again. He turns his head to you and looks down at you from under his bangs. “Hey, you know what?”

            “Hm?”

            “I think being willing to navigate confusing emotions together – willing to do hard things to make it work. I think that’s us. Wanting to connect to each other, even when connecting is hard? That’s us.”

            You take a deep breath as you stare up at him and your mind is completely blank. All that exists to you right now is Mizuki. His green eyes and his tear drop tattoo. And the dark red shirt that he’s wearing to make you happy.

            “I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” you say before you lean up to kiss him. You rest your head on his shoulder and he wraps his arms around you the rest of the car ride. He smells like cologne but that faint scent of damp ink that always surrounds him wafts through. That’s Mizuki.

            When the car finally stops, he shakes you a bit.

            “We’re home,” he says, as if you’d fallen asleep. You smile to yourself and sit up to look him in the eye. He turns his head to look out the tinted window and then swivels back to you. “Wait, this isn’t – home?”

            “Emmerich suggested a romantic carriage ride around Midorijima. But there’s no such thing as romance in Midorijima, is there?”

            He half-smiles at you as he cocks his head forward and raises an eyebrow in confusion. You grin wider and nod at the door. He looks at it and then back at you and then he finally opens it and the two of you get out of the car.

            “Wha – Black Needle?”

            “Come on,” you say as you take his hand and lead him inside his own bar. Everyone inside cheers loudly and asks you how you’re date went, but you tug Mizuki toward the tattoo parlor that’s already been closed down for the night.

            “What are you doing?” he asks after he’s stopped to wave and say a few hellos to Dry Juice members.

            “Shit,” you say suddenly. It just occurred to you that you’re both still dressed up and you hope he doesn’t get any shit for it. “Is Koujaku here?”

            “No, he’s on a date tonight,” Mizuki tells you. You let out an exaggerated gasp.

            “No! He doesn’t get to go on a date on our anniversary!” you say loudly, still yanking Mizuki to the back room. He laughs and finally stumbles behind the curtains with you and shakes his head when everyone cheers you on.

            “No, Noiz, I really don’t want to fuck in the shop – ”

            “Shut up,” you breathe, pulling him toward you and catching him. You snake your arms around his waist and hold him flush against your body as you rub your nose against his and kiss him softly. He grips you tight around your shoulders and lets you take the lead, but you pull away before it gets too heavy.

            “This is where we first spoke,” you say quietly. “Well, it’s where we first _really_ spoke. To each other. I was in a terrible place. You weren’t in a great place, either. But this is where it happened.”

            “It is,” Mizuki nods and leans down to kiss you again. You let him, and his lips taste like dust and fruit but then you pull away again.

            “Come on,” you say, pulling him back out of the parlor and toward the bar. It’s loud and people keep trying to talk to you both, so you have to sequester him to a corner, hoping that will send the signal not to bother you. You lean in to his ear and say, “This is where you made me my first drink. This is where you told me I drink here for free.”

            He’s staring at the bar that he owns as you speak and then he pulls away and turns to you to shout, “Noiz, what is this? What are you doing?”

            “This is where someone did something for me selflessly for the first time ever,” you shout back, pointing emphatically at the stool that’s been yours for the past three years. “You. It was you who did that.”

            “It was only amaretto,” Mizuki starts to say dismissively, but you shake your head and pull him away, back to the car.

            “Shut up,” you say again. “Come on.”

            Everyone tries to shout their goodbyes as you push him out the door and it’s not until you have him back in the car that he’s able to turn to you and shake his head. The car lurches forward but you don’t have much time before you get to your next destination.

            “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

            “Winning the bet,” you tell him, leaning in to grab his cheeks as you kiss him, this time allowing him to deepen it with his tongue. You accept it and start poking your tongue back into his mouth and he moans languidly as you swipe it across his bottom lip. You nip at it too and he grips your thighs tight as you kiss almost violently until you get three blocks up, when the car stops again. You didn’t think about how hard it would be to pull away from him each time you had to get out of the car, but you force yourself to part and then you shoo him out of the car again.

            “Come on,” he whines. “Can’t we keep – ”

            “No,” you shake your head. “Get out.”

            He sighs but does as he’s told and everyone on the sidewalk does a double take at your car – and probably the two of you, as you’re far too dressy for the streets, but you don’t really care. Mizuki looks around the sidewalk for a couple seconds and shrugs.

            “Where are we?” You point at a corner near an alleyway. He stares at you and shakes his head. “We walk this street every day,” he says.

            “This is where that guy threatened me,” you say. It’s not easy for you to recall the day that an old sex partner of yours decided to heckle the two of you and judging by the look on Mizuki’s face, it’s not easy for him, either. He takes a deep breath and has to look away.

            “Why did you bring me here?”

            “Because you laid him out,” you say with a slight smile. “This is where someone defended me for the first time. It’s where someone cared about what other people said about me. It’s where _you_ cared about me.”

            “Hm,” Mizuki hums, looking at the sky and rubbing his elbows in either hand as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip and tries not to smile. “It’s where your street urchin boyfriend defended your honor through violence.”

            “It’s where my boyfriend defended my honor,” you say, grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him quickly. “Get back in the car.”

            “How many places are we going?” he sighs as he once again does as instructed.

            “Eight.”

            “Eight?!” he shouts. “What’s that been, three?”

            “Yeah, so get ready for a lot of making out in between stops,” you tell him, and that’s exactly what you do before stop number four – which is far more recognizable to him once you get there.

            “Wait,” he says as he looks up at his own apartment. “If we have five more stops, why are we home now?”

            You unlock his front door without a word and lead him into his own place (his cats surround your feet and you roll your eyes as he takes three minutes out of your schedule to feed them). When he comes out of his room, you pull him down the hallway into his living room and point at his couch.

            “A lot of stuff has happened here,” he says suggestively. You laugh.

            “This is where we had our first fight,” you tell him. He stops smiling and stares at you in confusion. “Just as people. We weren’t dating yet. You didn’t want to have sex and I pushed you.”

            “Noiz – ”

            You grab his hand and pull him back down his hallway and out the front door again. It seems he’s stopped asking questions and simply lets you yank him around like a ragdoll. You sit down on his front step and pull him down with you.

            “And this is where we first made up,” you tell him. “Your couch was the first time someone was mad at me – and I actually gave a shit. And this doorstep was the first time someone wanted to try to work things out with me even after I had fucked up. I had never felt hopeful in my entire life until that moment.”

            “Hopeful?”

            “Yeah, just – I don’t know how to explain it. I was just – hoping that somebody finally loved me.”

            “ _Noiz_ ,” he says, just like in the living room, but now he’s breathy and close to tears. He turns into you and pulls your face towards his to kiss your cheek, and you let him fall into your neck for a few seconds before you rub his shoulder and lean into his ear.

            “Come on,” you whisper, and he lets you pull him up slowly and take him back to the car.

            The sixth destination is a bar a little way out that you don’t go to often. He looks up at the sign above the door and then at you. He remains quiet, waiting for you to do all the talking.

            “We don’t have to go in,” you say, “but this is where we had our first fight as boyfriends.”

            “Oh, fuck,” he says, covering his eyes with his hand. It was a particularly nasty fight – and no one’s fault, really, but Mizuki blames himself to this day for it. He got too drunk and everything escalated.

            “It was bad – ”

            “Why would you bring me here?” he says again, looking at you with heavy, shameful eyes. He sounds a bit angry, but you sort of expected that.

            “ _Because_ ,” you say, putting a finger up and ushering him back to the car. It’s an awkward ride to destination seven – not a single kiss – but when you get there, you hope this will be the place to change his mind.

            “What is this?” he asks, looking around the empty, industrial street. You take a deep breath. You took a big risk with this one.

            “This is one of the most important places.”

            “I don’t recognize it.”

            “That’s because you weren’t here for what happened.”

            “What – how is that possible?”

            Your heart starts beating a little quicker as you tell him:

            “This is where I fucked some other guy. You and I weren’t dating – it was before you even called me your boyfriend on accident. He had me up against that wall,” you say, pointing at the brick wall across from you, “and it was hard enough that I could feel it.”

            You close your mouth and stare at your boyfriend, who seems like he’s trying very hard to take it all in. He stares at the wall you pointed at, his hands at his side limply and his shoulders relaxed so much that you think he might collapse. Then he walks over to it and presses his fingers to the bricks. Three years ago, your back was against where his skin is touching. He turns at you and shakes his head.

            “Noiz, what the fuck?”

            “This is where I first realized that I loved you.”

            His mouth drops open and then he scoffs, rolls his eyes and looks away for a few seconds. When he looks back at you, he seems angry.

            “You realized you loved me while you were fucking another dude?”

            “Mizuki,” you say, stepping toward him quickly. “If inappropriate epiphanies during sex isn’t _us_ – then what is?”

            He stares down at you and you really hope that he understands why this was so important to you. You remember that day so clearly, because you remember everything about falling in love with Mizuki. Maybe this was a bad move, but you want him to know everything about how you fell in love with him. And then he starts to smile and you grab his hand.

            “When did you first realize you were in love with me?” you ask. He scoffs again and looks away for a few seconds. It seems like he doesn’t want to answer, but he grins eventually and says:

            “That time you came into Black Needle,” he begins, trying to stifle laughter, “and didn’t say a fucking word as you put down a bowl with dog food in it and then stared at Koujaku and called him over to it like a dog.”

            You burst into laughter. You forgot you did that.

            “Okay, so I’m gross for falling in love with you while fucking another guy,” you say, “and you’re gross for putting Koujaku into our love story, so we’re even.”

            “Sure,” he says, grabbing your face and kissing you. You will never get enough of that.

            “Okay,” you tell him. “There’s just one more place.”

            It’s another silent ride as you sit in Mizuki’s lap peacefully, your head cradled between his neck and shoulder. He’s breathing slowly, his chest heaving you up with it every time he inhales, and you play with his fingers just like you used to do back when you would lay on his living room floor with him before you were dating. He’d let you curl into him and dance your fingers along his while he was completely engrossed in whatever terrible movie he was watching. You were completely engrossed in him. You always were.

            It’s probably not a surprise to Mizuki where you’re going by the time you get there, because it’s the only place you’d ever go that’s this far away. And with the pattern of locations, he probably assumes the field that he used to take you to look at the stars is the only place left to go.

            You get out of the car first so that you can get into the trunk for a blanket and then Hideo drives away to leave you both alone for a while. Mizuki takes your hand after you lay the blanket out on the grass and you lie down on it together and turn into each other. You have a lot to say about this place, but you get distracted for about fifteen minutes by Mizuki’s lip _yet again_ and you can only hope that they will distract you for the rest of your life.

            “You knew I was going to bring you here, didn’t you?” you ask finally after you pull apart and push his lips away with your fingers. He nods with a smile and kisses your fingertips.

            “Of course I did.”

            You take another deep breath and look him in the eyes.

            “I know you grew up in Midorijima. I know its history is not great. I know you feel low-class, like there isn’t much this place has to offer. I know you think it can’t be romantic. But I think all those places are romantic because I was at them with you. Not because I had wine to swirl or everyone was wearing a suit. And this island offered me the most important thing I’ve ever had.”

            You stop talking to catch your breath because it’s gotten a bit too cheesy, even for you. Even for this night. You’re not sure you can bring yourself to say it, but Mizuki smiles. He knows exactly what you’re thinking.

            “You have to say it.”

            “No, I – I didn’t plan it out,” you stutter, shaking your head. “It got too melodramatic.”

            “You have to say it!” he shouts and you roll your eyes.

            “This island gave me you.”

            Mizuki puts his hands under his head and shrugs his shoulder exaggeratedly.

            “That was so tacky.”

            “Look, maybe one day we’ll leave this island, and I don’t care if we never do. I just want to always be with you. This is where I felt for the first time like someone gave a shit whether I lived or died, Mizuki.”

            He stops grinning to hold back tears again.

            “This island is _us_. Every part of it is _us_. And _we_ are important because we’re bigger than ourselves now. And I understand why you don’t think it can be romantic, but it is. All of these supposed dumpy, shitty places are romantic because these are places where people fell in love.”

             Mizuki grabs your face and kisses you immediately. He kisses you hard and he kisses you long and he doesn’t let go of you until you both need to breathe. He tries to reply to you but he can’t – every time he opens his mouth it looks like he’s going to cry and he has to close it – and you don’t need him to respond right away. You tell him that. You tell him it’s okay if he doesn’t know what to say right now because you have all the time in the world together.


End file.
